Millennium Moon
by Lunatic Lolita
Summary: Prince Ryou's 16th birthday is quickly approaching. He must find a bride, produce an heir and become the new King of England! But none of this can happen if he is kidnapped by the King of Thieves, and worse, forced to befriend him so he can stay alive...
1. The Lonely Prince

**Millennium Moon**

**Prologue:**

Once upon a time, there was a young slave. What bound him were not heavy chains, but the duty to become a King to his people. The people loved the handsome Prince, but he never showed interest in becoming their King.

Every day, every night, his father would remind him of his duty as the only heir to the throne, and the Prince responded kindly.

Bound body. Bound emotions. A slave or a Prince?

Which of them is really the one who cannot move?

-----

**Chapter 1: The Lonely Prince**

The lonely Prince stared from the castle window to the segmented land below. His room, high in the Palace tower, looked down upon the merchant street of a nearby Village. He watched as the townspeople hurried from one vendor to the next, making best of the early morning deals. Children ran playfully among the grocer stalls, their mothers making half-hearted attempts to stop them. Farmers drove carriages filled with ripened fruits, assortments of fine cheeses, fresh milk and eggs, intent on selling their goods and tending to their hungry horses.

In the distance, the toll of church bells woke him from his pleasant daze.

The boy sighed. He blinked slowly, huffing his white feathery bangs from his toffee eyes. The riches and jewels bestowed upon him from a life of royalty were not what he was after. The humble servants, the lavish wardrobes, the elegant furnishings and the imperial crown, these things meant little to him; these things he could do without.

What he valued most of all was something he could never have, something so easily obtained that even a simple peasant could chance upon it.

Bound by his sorrow, the grieving Prince looked on from his beautiful prison.

-----

From the edge of his dream, a light knocking sounded upon the boy's gilded door. He startled; how long had he been sitting here, watching the simple lives of people that he could never meet? Surely his father would be angry.

The bedroom door opened slowly; revealing the Prince's guest. Standing in the hall was the personal attendant to the Royal family.

A striking man, tall and lean, decorated in cerulean robes embroidered with shanks of gold, his chestnut hair fell carelessly into the ocean of his navy eyes. In his right hand he carried the Millennium rod, a majestic scepter he was rarely seen without.

"Priest Seto, what brings you?" The young Prince glanced worriedly towards the Palace guard, hoping his secret thoughts would not betray him.

"Prince Ryou, have you forgotten that your father has requested an audience with you? He has been waiting in the chamber room for nearly an hour. Needless to say, he is not pleased."

The boy's garnet eyes widened with regret.

"Oh my! How could I have forgotten?" Ryou jumped from the cushioned window seat, searching frantically for his coronet.

"Ahem." The Prince turned quickly towards the sound. He spied his gold circlet, waiting ready in the Priest's trusting hands.

"Seto, how is it that you are always so prepared?" Ryou walked to the taller man who placed the dainty crown on his silvery head. He stared into the jeweled mirror at his formal appearance. His hair was growing longer, it fell past his shoulders now, hanging in razored lengths around his rosy cheeks. His milky skin, the palest of all the Royals, looked lighter than usual in the rays of the morning sun.

"Your father has asked me to provide you with guidance, but guidance is all that I can give. Now I suggest that you _hurry_."

"Yes, I will; thank you!" The boy ran quietly from his Chamber room, through the torch lit castle halls laden with elaborate tapestries and gilded portraits, under the ivory arbor and past the indoor rose gardens. In his haste he attracted many confused glances from the Palace maids, who stopped their daily chores to watch the rare commotion.

Nearly breathless, he finally came upon the room where his father resided.

Ryou huffed nervously at his fallen bangs, adjusting his simple crown before opening the large double doors to the Royal Assembly room.

The king sat alone at a long, oak table, his fingers tapping anxiously against the finely crafted wood. He was a kindly looking man, bearded and heavy set, his fair hair graying slightly with age.

"Father, I must apologize for I have overslept. It was not my intention to keep you."

"Yes well, I see how that would be easy to do. After your unexpected outing last night, I am surprised that you even came at all."

The young Prince froze instantly in place; he had not expected this.

"Father, whatever do you mean?" He struggled unsuccessfully to feign his innocence.

"Don't fool with me, boy! You know very well what it is that I refer to. Last night one of the stable maids saw you escape from your Chamber window; of course I was immediately notified. Do you really think that the eyes and ears of this Palace would betray me? What could you possibly have been thinking? Going alone into town, and for what?! What do they have that holds your fascination so? Name it and it is yours!"

"But father, I-I didn't go into town... I just fancied a midnight stroll through the gardens and--"

"You should know better than to lie to **me!**" The distressed King clenched his fists in frustration. Ryou noted the angry flush of his once jolly cheeks. "I had Priest Seto follow you as a precaution, though he did not understand your intentions of going off alone, at night, while poorly disguised! Do you know the things that could have happened to you if you succeeded? Do you realize the dangers that lie outside these Palace walls for a Prince? The thieves and murderers that would kill for a chance at the only son of the Royal family? **You**, the last heir of the imperial throne?!"

"Father, I--"

"**Do not speak until I say**." The King raised a firm hand as a motion of silence. "I do not commend your actions, Ryou. Your sixteenth birthday is quickly approaching; you** know** this is a critical time! The Royal Coronation is less than a year away. You must perfect yourself to take over the throne, to take a wife and to produce an heir. This is what you must devote yourself to, this and nothing more. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father."

"You know my health is in question; we do not know how much longer I can remain on the throne. You are the only one capable of replacing me, my one and only son."

The young Prince nodded solemnly in response. It was true. His father was sick and growing weaker by the day. The time he had left in this world was uncertain, even to the most talented and experienced of physicians.

In the silence, a long sigh escaped the weary King.

"Look at you, so handsome and well grown, I can hardly believe that you are almost of age. You remind me so much of your mother. You know that she would be very proud of you." The King's eyes sparkled for the briefest instant, as if recalling a beautiful memory. "She had the same expectations of you that I do, which is why I know she would agree with what I am about to say... Ryou, I have assigned Priest Seto to accompany you in the night. He will stand guard by your Chamber door. He will know everything you do and see everyone you speak to. If he finds that you are not in your bed he will inform me at once, and I assure you, you do not want that to happen."

The Prince's eyes widened in a panicked terror. To constantly be watched and ordered by another, always under the scrutiny and surveillance of his peers, the privilege of privacy torn away with little hope to return, was this what his life was reduced to?

"B-but, Father! You can't!"

"Do not argue with me. You have placed yourself in this position and it is you who must realize the consequences. You are the Prince of England and you will act like it."

Ryou managed to hold back his tears. He would not cry in front of his Father, he would not show his weakness to the King.

"You may go now, my son."

With a curt nod, the grieving boy walked quickly from the room. When he reached the carpeted hall he merged into a sprint, following the cobbled walls to the sanctuary of his Chamber, the only place he could ever be truly alone. Launching himself to the feather bed, he no longer had reason not to cry.

As the day turned to noon and the sun to night, muffled sobs escaped quietly into the Prince's pillow.

-----

A soft knock woke the sleeping Prince from a dreamless slumber. Nightfall was near. As the sun slowly set, the pink and orange sky cascaded in through the rainbow of his bedroom window.

"Your highness, it is time for your evening meal. Your father wishes to dine with you, he awaits your arrival." Priest Seto walked softly toward the Prince's bed, where Ryou's face was still buried in a pile of tear stained cushions.

"I'm not hungry, tell Father I've already eaten. Tell him that I'm ill. Tell him whatever you'd like, or perhaps, you could tell him that I went into town, _you're good at that_." The stifled response came in breathy sentences. Seto's face softened as he hid an amused smile.

"I see... You are angry with me for spying on you last night, for protecting you."

Ryou turned slowly towards the bronze Priest, his face flushed from stale tears. He sniffed, wiping at his swollen eyes.

"I do not need you to protect me! I grow so weary of people following me and gossiping about what I do. For once, I wish to be normal! It isn't typical to be treated in such a fashion! What normal person dresses in crushed velvets and extravagant silks, has servants that wait on them hand and foot, _sleeps _with a guard by their door? Seto, I tell you, I don't even know the slightest thing about women. I've never had the fortune of kissing a girl! Yet my Father expects me to take a wife in less than a year. He's completely mad!"

The calm Priest sighed. He sat gently at the end of the boys bed, taking caution not to disturb him.

"You wish to be out **there**, in the villages that our knights and Calvary protect. In the broken houses that thieves have pillaged and claimed as their own, in the company of people who will tell you all that you wish to hear, in the hopes that they can trick you out of your fortune. Ryou, the world is not kind to those who do not know how to live in it. I tell you this because I do not wish to go back. Perhaps you deem me foolish, yet you know little of the hardships that I have endured. I pray that you will never know what I have lost, nor the people that took it from me. You belong here, Ryou. You are the one and only Prince of England. You have no idea how many people out **there** wish to be you."

"Then I would happily trade lives with the first commoner I see!"

"It is not that simple, Ryou. **Life**, is not that simple. You have a great duty to uphold. The people of this country are counting on you to be the best King that you can be. That is all that your Father asks of you."

"He asks far more than what you say. He is choosing my wife and forcing me to produce an heir. I have no wish to partake in a loveless marriage. I have no wish to become a child King."

"So you will denounce your throne? You will deny your lineage and surrender this life for the life of a commoner?"

The Prince stared into the eyes of the Priest who sided with his Father.

"I-- I wish it were that simple."

-----

The Prince slept soundly that night. He did not hear the soft thumps of the approaching hooves over sand. Nor did he hear the metallic clang as the grappling hook caught the stone sill of his Chamber window. He was not aware of the stranger that had climbed into his room, or the dagger that the thief held near.

Before the boy knew what was happening, he felt the gloved hand of the cloaked man over his mouth, then the toxic smell of something sweet.

"Don't scream."

Then the press of the serrated dagger against his throat.

"If you alert the guards, I will kill you now as they will me."

The stranger never spoke above a whisper. Ryou nodded beneath the pressure of the demanding thief, trying with difficulty to still his hurried breath.

"If you want to survive, you will do as I say from here on out. Is that clear?"

Another nod from the frightened Prince.

"Good."

Then the darkness came.

-----

The disoriented boy woke slowly, the sweet taste of chloroform still lingered on his tongue.

The thump of the galloping horse sobered him, as did the fresh air of the English countryside. He was blindfolded, for he could not see, but he could feel the arms of the man behind him, holding still the horse's reins.

After some time, the panicked Prince asked his first question.

"Who are you?"

The strange man did not respond right away, seemingly deciding whether or not to use his real name.

"My name is Marik. I am a bandit of the Sennen Thieves. I was assigned by our leader to kidnap you."

In the artificial darkness, Ryou slowly took in the disturbing information. It was not long before he asked his last question.

"Where are you taking me?"

The man known as Marik laughed coldly beside him. Ryou assumed that he was not the only person to have ever met this fate. When Marik finally answered there was still a note of humor in his rough voice.

"I am taking you to our King."

-----

The scent of hollowed earth was unmistakable. Though the Prince could not see, it was easy to conclude that he was being taken underground.

The horse stopped and the silent thief got off, leaving the blinded boy alone. After tying the animal to a nearby stake, he guided the Prince down but did not remove his blindfold.

"We walk from here, or I can carry you."

"I'll walk."

The young Prince timidly grabbed the cloak of the man named Marik. He noticed that the thief walked slowly, perhaps intentionally, so that Ryou could keep pace. They continued on in this manner, moving deeper into the cavern and farther into the vacant earth. As they descended, the ground beneath their feet became steeper and it grew increasingly harder for the boy to keep his balance. He tripped once, but the man ahead stayed silent.

"We're almost there. I'll have to carry you from here." Before the boy could protest, the man knelt down and lifted him effortlessly over his shoulder. Ryou bobbed gently with the thief's gait, his weak arms slung over the mans strong back.

"H-hey! Put me down! I can walk!"

The Prince tried unsuccessfully to pull away. He had no idea what he would do if he succeeded, or where he would go, but it seemed a better plan then being escorted to certain death.

An abrupt knocking quieted the subdued Prince, who listened intently to his new surroundings.

"Bakura, I've returned."

They had entered a room; that much he was sure of. Though whose room he did not wish to know.

"Marik, I knew you wouldn't fail me. Put him on the bed."

Ryou was lowered with surprising kindness to the mattress below. The soft blankets beneath him were a welcome comfort. Before he could speak or adjust his position, the blindfold was swiftly removed.

Bright chocolate eyes adjusted slowly. The dark room was softly illuminated by several tallow candles and an old, oil lamp. The stone walls were vaguely reminiscent of an iron cell, but warmer. There was no natural light or windows to speak of, a further indication that they were deep underground. Large empty bottles, of which he had never seen, littered the dirt floor in random piles. Ryou noticed that one of the two men was holding one, half filled with an amber liquid. This man, the one in the blood red cloak, caught his eye.

His hair was shoulder length, shaggy and slightly unkempt. Pure white, it reminded him of feathers and freshly fallen snow. His right cheek bore a scar, a long slash crossed twice by similar, faded lines. The anxious Prince wondered briefly how he obtained it, but quickly decided against asking.

Troubled eyes, a vivid blue, held hazy hints of indigo, and Ryou lost himself in this strange man's stare.

The dark skinned Thief, who Ryou presumed was their King, took a long swig of flavored rum, wiping his mouth with his scarlet sleeve before speaking.

"He doesn't look the way I imagined him, **too pale**..." The white haired man stepped closer. With a harsh bronze hand he grabbed the chin of the boy, tilting his face up toward his own. "Bloody Christ, he's just a kid!" The man called Bakura looked disappointed, somehow.

"Yes, he is young, only fifteen." Ryou now noticed the other man, the man that had brought him here. Golden cuffs adorned his bronze wrists and upper arms. His platinum hair cast silver by the small flames of candlelight. Longer and wilder then the other mans, wisps of it seemed to go in every direction, though it suited him. A navy cape was fastened with a golden chain at the hollow of his throat. This man seemed less intimidating, but only because the boy felt he partially knew him.

"He's too young to stay here, take him to the dungeon." The King's orders were unexpectedly interrupted by a stubborn Prince.

"I **am** old enough!" Ryou snapped back defensively. "In three months I shall turn sixteen and be crowned the King of England! Then I will become a man."

The crimson cloaked thief raised a speculating brow.

"I do not believe you have the faintest idea of what makes a boy a man."

The thief named Marik grinned in agreement.

"He's probably still a virgin."

The young Prince felt a warm flush radiate through his cheeks.

"Well... Are you?" The head thief questioned on, poorly concealing an arrogant grin.

There was only silence from the boy on the bed.

"As I thought. I bet you've never even kissed a girl."

Eager to prove himself to these two strangers, Ryou shot back quickly with exaggerated lies.

"I have kissed a girl! In fact, I have kissed many girls, _hundreds _even."

The two men exchanged doubting glances before entering a fit of shared laughter.

Ryou was not pleased.

"You can't presume to judge me when you don't even know me!"

"You're right, we don't know you. But if what you say is true... Well then, you must be _very_ experienced. You must be an excellent kisser. " Ryou did not notice the mocking tone of the Thief King's voice.

"Y-yes. Of course I am."

"Okay. Prove it." The white haired man leaned casually against the wall, as if his request was commonplace.

"W-what?" The Prince was clearly confused by his subtle remark.

"You heard me kid. **Prove it**."

"What? H-how? I mean I couldn't possibly..." Ryou glanced around nervously as he trailed off, racking his mind for a way out of this unpleasant situation.

"I'll make you a deal, kid. If you kiss as good as you say you do, I'll let you go."

"L-let me go?"

"Yep. I'll even escort you back to the Palace, compliments of the Sennen Thieves."

Marik stifled a cold laugh. Bakura elbowed him quickly in the ribs, mouthing words that the boy could not hear. Ryou eyed the two men wearily. He still couldn't tell if they were completely serious, or if this was just their twisted idea of fun. He hoped it was the latter.

"W-what do I have to do, then?"

"Kiss Marik." The thief Bakura nudged the man standing next to him expectantly, a playful smile extending on his face.

"H-huh? Boss, I can't. Malik would kill me." The white haired man looked disappointed, sulking almost like a child.

"Fine then. **Kiss me**."

The frightened boy did not respond. Surely the Prince of England was worth more than the perverse entertainment of two wanted thieves. Could they possibly make him do such a thing?

"What's wrong? I thought you were an expert at this sort of thing. Is _he_ making you uncomfortable?" The superior thief glanced quickly to the man at his side. "Marik, **leave us**."

Marik rolled his lavender eyes in detest before exiting the room, leaving them completely alone.

"Now it's just me and you kid, and I'm still waiting for this amazing kiss you promised me." The crimson thief crossed his arms smugly against his chest.

"But... You're the one who ordered him to kidnap me! How could I possibly trust you?"

Bakura grinned cunningly at the troubled boy.

"I am a man of my word."

"But you're a thief, you **lie **for a **living!**"

"Now who's being presumptuous?"

Ryou glared in frustration at the arrogant man. The Thief King smiled coyly back.

"Very well... Just remember that you promised to let me go."

A promise is a promise, kid.

Ryou hung his legs over the side of the bed slowly, purposely delaying the inevitable moment. He stood confidently, convincing himself that this was the right thing to do, the **only** thing to do. He walked to the man leaning indifferently against the wall and immediately noticed the difference in their opposite heights. Ryou barely came to the Thief's lean shoulders.

Supported by the wall, Bakura nonchalantly inched himself slightly down.

Continuing on tip-toe, the inexperienced Prince leaned slowly in. It was quick but sweet, a gentle kiss on the lips before pulling away. Despite the child's calm demeanor, the older man sensed the trembling of the younger boy at his side.

Ryou looked up at the man expectantly, his toffee eyes wide with confused anticipation.

"_That's _what you call a **kiss?** That was pathetic!" The proud King pulled away haughtily, shunning the shocked Prince.

"I-It was not! You're just saying that so you won't have to release me!"

"Is that so?"

"Yes, you **lied!** I knew I couldn't trust you..."

The Princes eyes seethed with hurt and betrayal. The distraught boy mistakenly turned his back to the King of Thieves.

Bakura sighed in frustration, his golden fists clenching in angry spasms at his sides. He would not tolerate such behavior. This boy, who hardly knew him, would not get the best of him.

He reached out suddenly, grabbing Ryou's shoulders and pushing him forcefully against the wall. He found the boys parted lips and locked them quickly with his own. The sweet scent of peach rum flavored his breath. As his warm tongue slipped inside the Princes mouth, he felt the boy shudder beneath him. In the dark, Bronze hands gently fondled flushed cheeks. The boys skin burned pleasantly beneath the thief's caress. Their tongues twisted together in an elegant dance, accompanied only by the steady drum of their beating hearts.

When he pulled away the Prince was breathless. Braced by the wall, his trembling knees failed as he slid down slowly towards the floor.

Stepping back, Bakura folded his arms stubbornly against his chest.

"That'll teach you to call** me** a liar. Stupid kid."

Ryou's heart still pounded haphazardly in its cage. His breathing was ragged and uneven; his palms clammed over in a sweaty sheen.

The paranoid thief glanced guiltily down at the collapsed boy.

"Hey kid... You alright?"

"I'm fine." The embarrassed Prince did not look him in the eye.

"You've had quite a day. Go get some rest."

"I'm not tired."

"**Do it.**" Bakura pointed a stern finger toward the bed against the far wall. Why was this kid so obstinate? Did he realize who he was dealing with?

Ryou got up slowly and obeyed. He lied down quietly, still confused about the kiss, still denying the severity of his situation. The mattress was exceptionally comfortable, more so than his own. The silk sheets felt cool against his sticky skin.

"I'll be gone for a bit. Stay here. And don't try anything funny, kid. There will always be someone guarding this door."

The crimson King walked purposefully out of the hollowed room. He turned and closed the heavy wooden plank that served as a makeshift door. Ryou noted dully that there was no sound of a lock or key. Though it wouldn't help him any if he was constantly to be guarded. He laughed inwardly, as this situation was not much different than that of the Palace and his Fathers new rules.

The overwhelmed boy sighed, turning on his back to look up at the dim ceiling carved jaggedly overhead. The Prince caught sight of a small crevice in the rocks above, revealing a moonlit night sky, cloudless and thick with stars. It gently illuminated the dark room, casting small patches of ghostly light onto the occupied mattress below. In a way, it soothed him.

At that moment he felt he was not completely hidden away from the outside world.

-----

I hoped you liked it! This is my first fic with Ryou in it, so I hope I captured his personality well! Next Chapter is **The Crimson King **:) Please R&R!


	2. The Crimson King

**Millennium Moon**

**Prologue:  
**

Once upon a time, there was a boy who was raised by two loving parents. He had everything he ever wanted and he was very happy.

One day, his village was attacked by royal knights and his mother hid him away where he would be safe. As the boy watched silently from afar, his family was killed in the massacre and his village was burned to the ground.

The sky was black with smoke, the earth red with blood, and the boy had lost everything.

That night the boy's life had changed forever, and he vowed to seek revenge, at any cost.

But would vengeance quench his overwhelming feeling of loss?

-----

**Chapter 2: The Crimson King**

"Time to get up, kid."

Bakura kicked the side of the mattress with his sandaled foot, gently rousing the boy from his peaceful sleep.

Ryou blinked, a few precious rays of natural sun shone down upon him from the crevice above. He yawned, momentarily forgetting where he was, glancing around in brief confusion. His umber eyes focused on the grinning thief, whose sandaled foot was now planted firmly on the side of the bed.

"In case you didn't realize, I **do** have a name." The annoyed Prince stared up confidently, his weary eyes silently demanding respect.

"_I __**am**__ aware of that._" Bakura sneered sarcastically before continuing. "Ryou Aidan Lorraine, last heir to the imperial throne, only child of Anne and William Lorraine. Mother deceased due to complications in childbirth, Father, current King of England_, _mourning the recant loss of his only son. _Shall I continue?_"

Ryou glared up at the crimson thief, the memory of his parents now painfully apparent.

"You didn't answer my question… _My name_, why do you not use it?"

Bakura stared down at the meek Prince, a tinge of guilt throbbed dully in his chest.

"It's simple, **I don't care**."

It was a precaution, really, a rule that the Thief King forged long ago. There was no point in becoming attached to the kid, no reason to add emotional baggage when dealing with a hostage.

It was harder to kill someone when you knew their name.

Ryou didn't respond. He gazed down at the extravagant quilt tangled gently around his legs. Diamond patches of green and blue stitched expertly to a creamy background. Small flowers embroidered the delicate shapes, giving subtle texture to the finished piece.

"**Get up**." The crimson King crossed his arms in irritation. He was not used to giving orders multiple times.

"Why?" Ryou challenged boldly back, not comfortable obeying the whims of this rude stranger.

"If you want Breakfast, you'll do as I say."

_Breakfast._ At the very mention of the word Ryou's mouth began to salivate; his empty stomach twinged and fluttered at the thought of a hot meal. He had skipped dinner the night before in the hopes of avoiding his angry Father, something he'd come to horribly regret.

The boy rose from the bed quickly, the promise of warm pastries and sweet jams, accompanied by his favorite tea, was too good to ignore.

The Prince followed impatiently as Bakura led him out of the dim room to the far side of the cavern. The tunnels were dark and cool, reeking of the musk that he associated with the scent of damp earth. He had difficulty keeping pace with the long strides of the older man. His feet, clothed only in a pair of thin socks, were not adequately protected from the sharp rocks beneath him.

They passed a few smaller caves, similar to the room he had stayed in the night before, the entrances boarded up with broken planks or hanging sheets, providing little in the way of privacy.

The sound of raucous laughter and the drone of many voices echoed invisibly off the walls ahead. Ryou's heart sped as they approached the growing noise, which the cave intensely magnified. The small corridor turned into a large opening, where Bakura stopped and waited patiently for the nervous boy behind him.

As Ryou entered the high ceilinged room, lit only by the flickering of many torch flames, the silence grew numbly in his ears. He was not sure if it was a normal reaction to the Thief King's presence among his peers, or the fact that he himself was unwelcome here.

Bakura moved to the long table where more than twenty intimidating men, all eyes on Ryou, sat silently. He lowered himself casually to the head chair, a golden throne laden with cabochon rubies, and looked at Ryou expectantly.

"**Sit**." The Thief King pointed to an adjacent seat. Ryou walked quickly to his side and sat down, his eyes downcast, avoiding the impolite glares of the quiet thieves. He swallowed nervously; his mouth felt exceptionally dry. Even this small action seemed magnified and he feared that everyone could hear it.

"Malik!" Bakura shouted the name impatiently, his clenched fist pounded loudly against the table.

"Coming Boss!" A lean teenager hurried over, brandishing an inlaid silver platter heaped high with rolls of baked wheat. Ryou noticed that the boy entered the room from a back door, where he assumed the kitchen was hidden. The Egyptian boy, not much older than Ryou, set the tray carefully on the table and hurried back to the dark passage from whence he came. He returned a moment later, holding a large, steaming bowl.

Nobody moved toward the food, seemingly waiting for an unspoken command. Bakura reached out casually and grabbed two rolls, placing them gingerly on his crystal plate. Once he had finished, twenty men moved in an unorganized frenzy to grab their meal. The Prince watched, eyes wide with disbelief. When the commotion ended, the once heaping platter was reduced to little more than crumbs. Ryou's heart sank at the prospect of losing out on half of his Breakfast.

Bakura glimpsed the disappointed boy from the corner of his eye. He sighed, taking a dry roll from his own plate and surrendering it carelessly over.

"You have to be quicker than that, kid."

Ryou looked up slowly, his eyes falling on the bread held loosely in the thief's bronze hand. He took it uncertainly, slightly embarrassed, nodding quickly in appreciation. Bakura hid a satisfied smile.

The boy named Malik moved gracefully from one person to the next, spooning out portions of a gooey, white paste. When he reached Ryou, he ladled out the sticky concoction with a shy smile. Ryou smiled politely back. He looked down at the unidentifiable blob of mush, convincing himself that he was too hungry to care.

The bread was tough and chewy. Pieces of nuts and grains stuck unpleasantly in Ryou's teeth. The white goop was starchy and bland, it's gummy texture similar to mashed bananas but without the satisfaction of taste. Ryou was thankful that at least it was warm; he doubted he could choke it down cold.

"**Hey**!" Bakura spoke up unexpectedly, causing Ryou to jump beside him. "What's with the dismal demeanors? I do _**not**_ approve of silence at **my** table."

There were a few isolated glances and some quiet murmurs before the thieves talked casually amongst themselves. Ryou breathed a relieved sigh, feeling less awkward with the attention diverted to conversation.

Malik came back after a time to collect the dishes and platter. He returned with a large jug of amber liquid, which Ryou instantly recognized as the peach flavored rum from the night before. The quiet Egyptian circled the table once more, half filling broken and chipped glasses, then setting them sloshing to the slab by each man. When he approached Ryou, the polite Prince tried to wave him away, but the disapproving glares of the surrounding thieves made him think otherwise. He silently accepted the wooden cup of brown rum, raising it to his lips under the scrutiny of the watching men. Ryou took a quick gulp of the foul smelling liquid, which choked him on the way down. His throat burned, rapidly heated by the strong, homemade brew. He coughed, his face flushing heavily as his eyes began to tear. Despite the horrible blaze that fired his throat, the aftertaste was sweet on his tongue.

Bakura smiled, pleasantly amused.

Towards the end of the meal the novelty of his appearance had seemed to fade, to which he was eternally grateful. To the Prince's dismay, the pleasantries of the alcohol had started to unleash their effects, leaving him far less alert than he wished to be, considering the questionable company that he kept. Glancing nervously around the table for the first time, he recognized Marik from the night before, sitting immediately to Bakura's right.

Just when the Prince had let down his guard, coerced into relaxation by the brown drink, Bakura pushed forcefully away from the table, standing expectantly at the boy's side. Ryou barely had time to stand before the thief grabbed his wrist and pulled him unwillingly from his chair, dragging him amongst the seated men and back towards the dim room that was now his home.

"H-hey, _wait!_" Bakura pulled him quickly through the confusing tunnels, each long stride equaling three of the smaller boy's. The quick pace took its toll as the Prince caught his foot on the underside of a heavy stone, disrupting what little balance he had left.

Ryou plummeted to the dirt. Breaking the bronze lock on his wrist, he managed to brace the fall with his hands, which scraped mercilessly against the jagged floor beneath him.

Bakura turned, clearly irritated of the boy at his feet. He sighed, extending a sleeved hand to the fallen Prince, who took it gently.

He was surprised at how effortlessly he was lifted by the older man. The Thief King turned silently and continued on ahead, wordlessly commanding the boy to follow.

When they reached the room, Bakura closed the plank door behind them, purposely blocking the only known exit. The intoxicated Prince stood confounded. _Had he done something to offend the King of Thieves? Was this the man's usual behavior?_ Fuzzy questions circled his inebriated mind, none of which were readily answered.

Bakura walked to the startled Prince. Grabbing both of his wrists without permission, he extended them towards what little light was available. He silently checked the boy's hands for any abrasions caused by his earlier fall. A tingling warmth that the Prince could not place, triggered by the thief's fingers across each of his palms, began at his hands and extended upward in a pleasant wave. Though the crimson King found no serious injuries, he kept his hold on the boy, refusing to let him go

"Tell me, _young Prince_, how was your first meal amongst thieves?"

The tipsy boy thought better of telling the truth.

"Fascinating."

Bakura eyed him suspiciously, searching his voice for tones of sarcasm. There were none.

Still holding the wrist of the confused Prince, he pulled the boy closer, enjoying the fear in his stifled reactions. Leaning down, he whispered softly in the boy's ear.

"Don't lie to me."

A static heat radiated throughout the Prince's cheeks, triggered by the caress of the Thief King's breath. The boy's heart drummed loudly in his chest, flushing his face a delicate pink.

"I-I'm not, _I assure you!_" The intoxicated Prince began to hiccup nervously.

The red bandit smiled, dismissing his hold on the fragile boy whilst turning his back to him.

"You did well out there, _**surprisingly**_. I think you'll manage here, until I decide what to do with you."

Ryou narrowed his eyes in concern.

"What do you mean, decide what to do with me?"

Over his shoulder, the King turned a mischievous gaze on the worried boy, unleashing a wicked smile.

"Go to the bed."

Umber eyes widened in sudden alarm. Unsure of the meaning in this simple request, Ryou quickly decided against it.

"I am fine on my feet, thank you."

"What?" The thief arched an annoyed brow at the boy's defiance.

"I shall stay here, if it's all the same to you." The Prince folded his arms stubbornly against his delicate frame, trying unsuccessfully to hold his ground.

Bakura growled, a harsh noise that emitted loudly from the back of his throat. He lunged forward, grabbing the boy's arm and jerking him toward the mattress. In a swift movement the Prince landed forcefully on his back, unintentionally releasing a small, frightened cry.

The King of Thieves glared fiercely down, teeth gritted, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

"**It seems you do not know your place**. The fact that you are Royalty is no relevance to me. You are **my** hostage; I _**own **_you. You will do as I say. There will be no questioning or refusal of the orders that I give, is that clear?"

The stunned boy eyed him anxiously, unable to move. After some time, he managed to nod weakly in response.

Bakura stared down at the frightened Prince, a surge of guilt stabbing at his heart. He sighed. Closing his eyes, he kneaded the bridge of his nose in frustration. He hadn't meant to scare the kid. It wasn't his fault that the boy kept pissing him off.

"Look kid, there are twenty men out there who despise nobility and everything it stands for; most of them would kill for just five minutes alone with you. **My word** is the only thing that's keeping you alive. You'd do best to show some respect."

Ryou nodded in silent understanding, accepting for the first time the hopelessness of his situation. He swallowed back his resolve, his pulse rushing wildly in his ears.

"Now, get some sleep." The crimson King walked away slowly, shutting the door quietly behind him. For the first time since he arrived, Ryou felt the overwhelming urge to cry.

About one thing he was certain: if Bakura was the only person keeping him alive, then he would have to find a way to befriend him.

-----

The Prince woke from a groggy daze to a gentle touch; someone had brushed a stray silver hair from his sleeping face.

Ryou opened his burgundy brown eyes to see a strange man hovering over him. He was heavy set, stout with bland features, his dark skin oily with grease. Tangled black hair fell loosely around his colorless eyes, his ripped clothes stained with stale sweat, increased the foul odor he readily emitted.

"Well yer a pretty one, ain't cha?" The man smiled, revealing two rows of rotten and missing teeth.

Ryou pulled himself up quickly, crawling to the farthest corner of the large bed. He backed firmly against the harsh wall of the stone room; there was nowhere else to go.

"Now, now, don't be tryin nothing funny. I'm warnin ya." The man raised a previously hidden hand, revealing a bright, twisted dagger. He reached slowly for Ryou's leg, placing a firm grip on the boy's white ankle. "That's it lad. _Be a good boy_."

The Prince kicked, dislodging the thief's grip. The irritated man climbed onto the bed, knife ready, eagerly grasping Ryou's thigh.

He kicked again, landing a firm hit to the man's chest. The thief gasped, his gray eyes blazing with raw anger. The blade of the dagger slashed out towards the boy's face but was blocked defensively by Ryou's arm. A warm sensation tingled just above the underside of his left wrist. It was blood.

Momentarily distracted with the shock of his fresh wound, the boy Prince was dragged forcefully to the edge of the bed, where he was quickly flipped on his stomach, both of his arms folded securely behind him. He struggled to slither from the man's strong grip, to no avail. He tried to scream, but his head was forced into the silence of the down mattress and silk sheets.

"I'm gonna teach ye a lesson ya won't soon ferget."

The filthy thief ground his hips into the boy's rear, coaxing small, humiliated cries from the helpless Prince. The strong reek of alcohol seeped from his stale breath.

"Ya feel that? I've got somethin for ya." The man pulled down Ryou's pants, exposing the milky flesh of his snowy skin. The thief squeezed the boy's exposed thigh, pushing his grimy hand up and in to part the Prince's legs.

Ryou heard the click of an unlocking belt. He felt the warmth of the man's body as it pushed up against his own, then the satisfied grunt as the man lowered his pants.

"_**What the fuck**_ do you think you're doing to him!?" An angry growl accompanied this demanding voice.

"B-Boss!"

A startled thief dropped a bright dagger. The twisted blade fell quietly to the bed, its silver gleam catching the attention of the red robed bandit, his sapphire eyes zealous and fierce. The King of Thieves lunged suddenly toward the frightened brigand, crimson cloak trailing elegantly behind.

He grabbed the man's collar, lifting him stiffly to his toes, blue diamond glare seething murderously.

"And what do we have here?" Bakura reached for the bedded knife. Gripping it with expert fingers, he raised it slowly to the man's throat. The stealthy blade bit firmly into the thief's skin. "**Who the hell do you think you are**? Coming in **my** room, putting your filthy hands all over _**my**_ kid…"

"I'm, s-sorry Boss!"

"**I'm not your Boss,**" Bakura pointed sternly to the frightened Prince trembling on the bed. "From now on, **he's your Boss**, you got that?"

"Y-yes!" The man swallowed against the pressure of the silver blade.

"Now, tell me again…"

"**H-he's** my Boss! _T-the kid!_"

"**Who's** kid?"

"**Your** kid!"

"Now, **apologize**."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Not to **me**, _to __**him**_."

The trembling thief turned a guilty gaze to the half naked Prince.

"I'm sorry kid! P-Please, I'm sorry!"

Bakura smiled wickedly in approval.

"Hey kid, tell me how I should dispose of this scumbag."

The meek boy responded quietly, his shaky voice filled with fear.

"Please, just… Let him go."

The crimson King glared defiantly at the terrified brigand.

"_You hear that?_ This kid just saved your **worthless **hide. What do you say?" Bakura pushed the knife deeper into the man's neck, blood trickled down slowly in a small trail.

"Tha-Thank you! Thank you!!" Tears streamed down the thief's dirty face, his limp body racked with heaving sobs.

"You're lucky it's up to _**him**_, because if it were up to _**me**_, **you'd be dead**." With a quick, forceful movement, Bakura threw the man to the earth floor. "**Get the hell out of here!**"

The thief picked himself up from the cold ground and scampered away, holding up his pants. The crimson King sighed, turning his attention to the grateful boy on the bed.

"Hey, you okay kid?" Bakura walked slowly towards him, staring down with worried concern at the trembling Prince. The timid boy covered his exposed half, pulling the patchwork quilt up to his chin.

"I-I'm fine."

"No, you're not. _You're bleeding, _**let me see**."

Ryou turned away, clearly embarrassed.

"It's just a scratch, really..."

The thief leaned down and reached for the cradled wrist; he pulled it tenderly towards him.

There was a small intake of breath from the solemn King. A deep slash marred the Prince's delicate white skin, accompanied by a ring of blooming bruises.

"Shit. He got you good."

The boy flinched from the pain of the thief's gentle touch.

"It… Doesn't hurt much."

"_You're a bad liar_."

Ryou flushed deeply, his face hot with humiliation.

"We'd better clean it so it won't get infected." The crimson thief rummaged behind him, pulling something from the pile of empty bottles on the floor.

"Here, drink this. It'll help with the pain." He placed a half filled bottle of red wine next to the injured boy.

"I… Don't drink."

"I'm not giving you a choice, kid. You'll just have to trust me."

Ryou sighed. Unable to disobey, he grabbed the dusty bottle and stared down at the French labeling. The emerald glass caught the light of the burning candles, brilliantly reflecting their orange sheen. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the dry scorch of the vile drink he now held. Tilting the bottle with his uninjured hand, the Prince took a steady gulp, swallowing the scarlet concoction quickly. The taste was different than he'd expected, rounded and sweet with only a hint of bitterness. It did not burn on the way down, in fact, it was rather good.

"Take another."

"But… _Why?_"

"Because it's the only medicine we've got!"

Ryou reluctantly complied, thankful that he had not been offered the homemade rum. He tipped the bottle to his lips and swallowed, once again surprised by the pleasing taste.

Bakura nodded in approval.

"**Now give me your hand**." The King extended his own hand, waiting patiently for the boy's. Ryou obeyed willingly, surrendering his throbbing arm.

The Prince felt a slight heat in his cheeks (brought on by the wine, no doubt), and his face blushed in the poisonous haze. The warmth that radiated throughout his body was peaceful and it calmed his anxious nerves.

The crimson King raised the injured wrist casually to his lips. Placing his mouth on the small, open wound, he gently tongued at the cut, sucking it gently, sending euphoric shivers up the boy's tainted arm.

Garnet eyes widened in surprise, his pinked cheeks flushing a deep scarlet. The resulting sting faded quickly, hidden by the warmth of the Thief King's kiss.

The Prince relaxed into the man at his side, drifting on the wine's pleasantry and Bakura's tender touch. He didn't want it to end, the safety of his warm retreat, this strange emotion he had never felt before now.

_How could a man with such rough hands, callused from years of hard labor, be so gentle?_ This thought echoed unanswered in his quiet mind.

"This might hurt a bit."

A sudden splash of something cold, then a horrible, unsettling sting took hold. Ryou opened his eyes and gazed down at his injured limb, dripping with amber rum.

"Ah…" The Prince clenched his teeth, the chemical burn seeping through his skin and into his exposed flesh like an ocher colored acid.

The crimson King searched their surroundings for a makeshift bandage. He settled for an old cotton shirt, which he bit and tore into long strips. Carefully, he thatched the cloth around the boys soaked wrist, tying it off gently with the fraying ends.

"You're all set, kid." Bakura rose lithely to his sandaled feet, making his way towards the plank doorway.

"W-where are you going?" The Prince asked timidly, not wanting to be left alone.

"I'll be right back; I just need to find Malik."

Malik… The name sounded so familiar.

"The boy who served us Breakfast?"

"Yes."

"Are you… Hungry?"

"No, but I think I've finally decided what I'm going to do with you."

-----

Ooo, what could it possibly be? And what could Malik have to do with it? Find out soon in **Chapter 3: The Color Code** Please R&R!


	3. The Color Code

**Millennium Moon**

**Prologue:**

Once upon a time, there was a Prince who was held captive and imprisoned within the Thief King's castle. With his freedom taken from him, he had no choice but to dance like a puppet to the tune set by the whims of the Thief King.

The Thief wanted to use the Prince as ransom for a most valuable and rare treasure. But in getting to know the Prince, the Thief started to doubt what he really wanted…

Gold and Revenge? Love and Desire?

Which is the most valuable treasure of all?

-----

**Chapter 3: The Color Code**

Two familiar voices and the echo of sandaled feet announced the return of the crimson King. A beautiful Egyptian trailed in after him, followed elegantly by a billowing, plum robe. His sandy hair contrasted nicely with the tone of his golden skin. Grey violet eyes outlined in thick, black kohl, caught the garnet gaze of the admiring Prince.

The tanned boy stepped forward, gracefully falling into a proper, formal bow.

"It is an honor to meet you, *Ouji-Sama. I have never been in the presence of Royalty before."

There was a hint of Arabic accent, muddled by years of English tongue. Ryou nodded at the beautiful boy, kindly returning the favor. Malik glowed with warmth and sincerity, deeming him exceptionally easy to trust.

Bakura shot a jealous glare at the polite Egyptian.

"Malik will be leading you around and teaching you the ropes, kid. I expect you two will get along rather well."

The Prince noticed an emerald cloak draped thoughtfully over the red bandits arm.

"I… I don't quite understand." Ryou blinked. Why would _he_, a hostage of the most prestigious band of English thieves, be allowed to roam freely in their secret territory?

Bakura stepped forward, brandishing the mysterious silk robe. He casually wrapped the emerald cloak around the Prince's shoulders. Ryou unconsciously leaned into the thief's warm embrace.

"As of this moment you are an honorary member of the Sennen Thieves. You will be trusted with the responsibility of important tasks that we depend on for our sole survival. I am counting on you to perform to the best of your abilities, while keeping absolute secrecy in the ways of the Sennen clan." The crimson King pulled away slowly, lingering possessively by the boy's side.

"I don't know, Boss… He's still pretty young for all of this responsibility." Malik suppressed a friendly grin. Bakura paused. His sapphire eyes swept the boy up and down slowly, landing with intimidating faith on the boy's scarlet face.

"I think he can handle it."

A strange feeling fluttered in the Prince's chest, swelling him with pride. He had never been trusted with something so important before, not by anyone, not even his own father.

"I, I promise to try my very best!" In his excitement the boy's voice hitched and squeaked, furthering the facial flush to his ears.

Bakura hid a satisfied smile.

"Malik will escort you to your first task, then."

Ryou nodded eagerly, following quickly as the golden boy left the safety of the King's stone chamber.

"And kid…" The Prince turned to see Bakura leaning, arms crossed, against the far rock wall. "**Don't** disappoint me."

-----

The small cave was illuminated by a high cracked ceiling. Precious rays of golden sun shone brightly overhead, glistening down with inviting warmth.

Ryou stared at the rippled metal board, placed casually in the basin of clean water, and sighed.

"I fail to see how doing laundry is something you depend on for survival."

Malik smiled with kind understanding.

"Everybody needs clean clothes, Ouji-Sama. I started on laundry duty not too long ago and look at me now; **I am the head chef of the Sennen Thieves!**" Cheeks glowing, he flushed magenta, and the proud Egyptian beamed with pride. Ryou was not impressed.

"Over there you'll find some shoes and a fresh pitcher of water. It'd be best to wash up before dinner." Ryou glanced to the far corner of the room. A beautiful pair of inlaid jewel sandals waited silently; their golden straps sparkled in the afternoon sun.

Malik handed the Prince a rough chunk of homemade soap. "Be careful with that, it burns." Ryou took the mangled bar. Jagged and white, it smelt strongly of vinegar and bleach. "Good luck, Ouji-Sama, I'll come get you in a few hours."

Garnet eyes widened in a surge of sudden fear. _How could he leave? _He was the Prince's only source of protection.

"Where are you going? _You can't leave me all alone!_" The boy's plea sounded with an unexpected hint of desperation. Malik smiled and placed a comforting hand on his cloaked shoulder.

"As long as you wear this robe you are safe, Ouji-Sama."

Ryou stared down at the fine emerald cloak, the hems embroidered beautifully with golden thread, the silk cool against his pale skin.

"How? How will this protect me? It is just a piece of cloth!"

"These are the King's colors. Whoever wears these colors is the property of the King of Thieves. Nobody is allowed to touch them except the King himself."

"Property? Of the King of Thieves?" As he said it, echoing the Egyptian's words, he somehow felt calmer, even comforted.

"Yes. Only one other person has worn this robe before you and she was our Queen. But now everyone shall regard _**you**_ as the Queen, Ouji-Sama, so there is nothing to fear."

"_Queen?"_ Ryou frowned at the feminine term. Malik laughed.

"Yes, you are now the _Queen_ of Thieves, Ouji-Sama, nobody can harm you. You'll even be granted certain privileges by our King."

"Certain… privileges?" The Prince's eyes widened, his interest peaked. "Like what, may I ask?"

"Well, for one, you'll get to sleep with him. You are so lucky, Ouji-Sama!"

Ryou's heart lept desperately in its cage. _What was this feeling?_ Pleasant and warm, it pulsed through him at the thought of the crimson King.

"W-what do you mean, _sleep with him?_"

"Well, isn't it obvious? Nobody else is even allowed in the King's chamber, and **you** get to sleep in his _**bed!**_"

"I-I do?"

"Of course, Ouji-Sama!" Malik's face lit up like an excited child's, lavender eyes sparkling cheerfully. "You get to sit next to him at meals and you get to take your food before everyone else at the table. Oh! You are also second in command, you even rank above Marik-chan! I am so jealous Ouji-Sama. E**veryone** wants to be you."

_You are the one and only Prince of England. You have no idea how many people out __**there**__ wish to be you._

Ryou sighed.

"Is something wrong, Ouji-Sama? Are you not feeling well?"

"Malik, you said that one other person has worn this robe before me... What happened to her?"

Lilac eyes widened in a candid shock. Malik stepped back quickly, breaking eye contact with the worried Prince.

"I am not allowed to speak of it, I've already said too much... Ouji-Sama, _**please**_, don't tell anyone I told you or, or…" Malik trailed off, taking a blind step back, then another.

With that, the beautiful Egyptian disappeared down the stone corridor, swallowed by the darkness of the eerie cave.

-----

The Prince rolled up the elegant sleeves of his emerald robe, a sanctuary that he was not prepared to remove. He grabbed the gritty soap and picked up a piece of dirty clothing from the pile on the floor. It was salty with sweat, smelling musky and damp. Ryou wrinkled his nose in disgust and plunged the grimy thing into the cold, clean water. Despite the constant sting of the chemical burn, the soap lathered well, and he grated the fabric across the rippled metal board, loosening the caked dirt to dispel the salty stains. After he washed, he rung out the clothing and draped it over a wire line, suspended halfway up the wall of the tiny cave.

The Prince worked for more than an hour before he was rudely interrupted.

"Who the hell are you?"

The tall stranger entered the room where Ryou kneeled, arms emerged to his elbows in the soapy basin. The startled Prince looked up from his work, eyes wide with sudden worry.

He stared up at the unfamiliar teen. His blonde hair was covered with the pelt of a timber wolf; it extended past his shoulders and halfway down his back. Similar furs decorated the boy's wrists and ankles; his brown eyes beamed with a confidant curiosity.

Ryou's gaze settled on the bright dagger, which was strapped tightly to the boy's waist with a leather cord. The twisted blade stole his breath, mangling what was left of his perfect poise.

"I- I'm…"

He didn't know what to say. He was the Prince of England and the "Queen" of Thieves, but he doubted this boy would believe it.

"My name is Ryou; I'm new here. The Boss put me on laundry duty." He held his breath, hoping the stranger before him would not question this half truth.

The blonde boy arched a suspicious brow.

"Ryou, huh? Well kiddo, it's your lucky day!"

The unnamed boy heaved a burlap sack from his shoulder to the rock floor below.

"The names Joey; I'm the hunter of this clan. I've been gone for a week and this here's my dirty clothes. Thanks in advance, kiddo."

The wolf boy stepped forward and mussed the Princes hair in a friendly gesture.

"Me and the boy's are unloadin' the meat. There's a huge haul, we'll eat good tonight."

"Meat?" The thought of it made his mouth water; it had been so long since he had a decent meal.

"Yep, we've got two weeks' worth of fresh chicken, venison and lamb, all compliments of the great Joey Wheeler!" The hunter's face beamed with pride, he swaggered to the side, swelling his chest. "Eh… The other guys helped a little." Joey winked, smiled and then turned to leave. "I'll see ya at dinner, kiddo!"

Ryou watched the hunters figure retreat into the darkness, taking with it the threat of the silver blade. He stared down at the heaping burlap sack and sighed.

"Well now, imagine meeting you here..."

-----

The smooth, tenor voice startled the Prince from his chore-filled daze. "And where may I ask, did you get **this?**"

Marik approached the timid boy with confident intrigue, his voice a cold velvet, his lips stifling a curl. He lightly fingered the emerald robe, cast jade by the sun's broken rays.

"Uh-um…" Ryou swallowed. The beautiful man stared into him, violet eyes unyielding, his kohl lined gaze uncertain. He was serene, but somehow very sinister. "Bakura gave it to me, this morning."

"Did he?" The Egyptian's tone was different, unreadable. Ryou realized with a fright that it lacked any emotion. The tall Egyptian spied the ruby sandals, still sitting patiently in the corner of the hallowed room. "And I presume he gave you those as well? How lovely..."

"He did. Does this trouble you?" The meek Prince barely stood his ground.

"It does nothing of the sort. I just thought that perhaps… It might trouble **you**." Marik arched a platinum brow; a glint of curiosity filled his gaze.

"And why should it trouble me? These colors will protect me… Malik told me so." The boy said this unsurely, realizing too late his hidden doubts.

"It only indebts you to him further. Did you really believe that his protection would come without a price?"

"I… No, he, he wouldn't—" Confusion reflected in Ryou's troubled tone, hazing his garnet eyes a bloody maroon.

"**Of course.** Nothing in life is free; you of all people should know that." The copper thief's muted glare turned thoughtful, almost teasingly so. "He will expect you to do things, _certain things_, in return for his favor. Soon, he will have you, and if you are lucky… You might just enjoy it." The taunting man smiled, sly lips twisting playfully.

The young Prince stood before him, hesitant and stilled with anticipation, red heat burning his humiliated face.

"I shall see you at dinner." The perfect Egyptian turned casually away, calling over his caped shoulder. "Tell Malik that I'm looking for him."

Ryou watched as the copper thief was swallowed by the mouth of the ghostly passage.

-----

Marik was angry, seething, almost beyond words. It took most of his strength to not lash out at the unknowing Prince. 

_It just wasn't fair_, _this couldn't be happening again. Praise Ala, not again._

"You are not with the Prince, I see." His velvet voice was heated with rage and he gnashed his teeth as a will to control it.

"Why? What is it to you?" Bakura stared up at the troubled thief. He had seen Marik angry before, and it wasn't a pleasant memory.

"I hope this isn't turning into what happened last time." The curt Egyptian narrowed his violet gaze.

"No, last time was different." The crimson king sighed. This was not a conversation he wanted to have. Not today, not ever.

"Are you sure? You gave him the cloak, did you not?" Marik snapped the accusation.

"The cloak is for his own protection, nothing more."

"And the sandals? What of them? They were hers' as well."

"Marik, this has nothing to do with… Kisa..." He trailed off, not willing to delve further.

"Bakura, she's gone and she's not coming back."

"_I know!_" A deep growl laced each word; it took all of his resolve to not picture her beautiful face.

"We took him for a reason and we must follow through. The Millennium Masque will be held on the next full moon. You promised that we would barter him for –"

"Marik, you'd do best not to remind me of my own plan. Now leave me!" Bakura huffed an exasperated breath as he pointed toward the chamber door, stifling a growl.

"Then I trust that you will not get too attached… " The Egyptian turned on his sandaled heel. With the whisper of a navy cape, he was gone.

In the silence, the King of Thieves was left suddenly alone, with thoughts and feelings he had long since forgotten.

-----

Bakura marched down the eerie tunnel. His blood red robe flowed elegantly with each angry stride. In his fury, he began to drag the blade of his knife along the quarry wall. The piercing sound of the silver blade echoed through the large chamber and beyond, casting its uneasy shriek upon all who heard it.

_Marik! After all I've done for him! After everything we've been through!_

The King of Thieves gritted his teeth, focusing to calm the crimson rage.

_He has the nerve to throw _**her**_ in my face, over and over again!_

Bakura stopped. He leaned heavily against the rough wall, shrouded by the flickering shadows.

"Kisa..."

He missed her. He had just gotten to the point where he was able to forget her, and then the kid came along and pushed her to the farthest recesses of his one track mind.

"Ryou…"

His face fell into the comfort of his large, bronze hands. He rarely felt this feeling, the lump in his throat, the itching behind his eyes that signified tears.

_The kid. The stupid kid. Without him, where would I be?_

He laughed then, a sort of wild laughter that was demented by emotion.

After he had collected what was left of his thoughts, Bakura pushed himself to his sandaled feet. No longer cross, he sheathed his knife, and strode with purpose to the small laundry cavern.

_-----_

"Hey kid, did you miss me?" Bakura sauntered into the dim cave, catching Ryou by surprise. The young Prince clasped the last gold strap of his new sandals in place. They were the prettiest shoes he had ever seen. Gleaming with cabochon rubies, they laced up his pale ankles and ended halfway below his knees. Bakura eyed the handsome Prince, his blue diamond gaze resting thoughtfully on the boy's slender legs. "Do they fit?"

Ryou smiled up at the crimson thief; the relief of his presence was almost overwhelming. He walked in a quick circle, getting a feel for his fancy new foot wear.

"Yes, they're very comfortable, thank you."

"You look good in them." The Crimson King returned his eyes to the boys pale face, flushing him a delicious shade of plum pink. The silent Prince opened his mouth to respond. In his embarrassment, he fumbled over his words and blushed even deeper. "You've finished all of the laundry, _I'm impressed_." Bakura reached out a strong, bronze hand, mussing the boy's silver hair. Ryou felt an electric shiver, brought on by the weight of the thief's gently touch. "I'm here to escort you to dinner, you've earned it."

The Prince beamed with obvious excitement, his stomach fluttering at the thought of hot food. Shyness temporarily forgotten, he quickly took Bakura's extended arm.

"I'm so hungry I could eat an entire feast!" The boy chattered merrily, the feeling of unrivaled protection and the strong, handsome thief at his side, put him at ease. They walked down the torch lit halls, winding their way to the heart of the massive cave.

"Tonight will be just that. The hunters have returned with a fortnights worth of food and drink. We'll have to eat all of the perishables before they spoil, so the next few meals will be fit for a King… _Or Queen_, for that matter." Bakura's gaze drifted to the boy keeping pace at his side. Ryou flushed deeper under the scrutiny of the Thief King's stare.

"Do you know the rules of the Color Code? Malik should have informed you earlier."

"I-I believe so." The meek Prince dropped his garnet gaze suddenly to the floor.

"Then recite them to me."

The Prince's eyes widened with a shallow fright.

"Don't you already know what they are?"

"Of course, I just want to hear it from **you**." Bakura smiled cunningly. Oh, how he loved making this beautiful Prince fidget uncomfortably before him!

Ryou took a deep breath before answering. In his mind, his thoughts raced wildly out of control.

_How could he embarrass me so?! Do I have to repeat __**everything**__ Malik told me? What if I'm wrong? What if I say something stupid!?_

"Um, well… I can sit with you at the table and… I can take my food after you but before all the others, a-and…" He trailed off, his cheeks overflowing with the warmth of humiliation.

"And?"

"I-I can sleep w-with—o-on your bed!" Ryou squeaked on the last syllable, furthering his embarrassment to mortification. To his utter horror, Bakura laughed at his side.

"Hmm. You're cute when you're nervous."

-----

They walked into the large room, thick with the scent of roasting meats. There was a sudden rush of whispers and fresh gossip, all directed at the Prince and his new wardrobe. Ryou glanced nervously around him, following Bakura to his empty seat.

When they sat silence enveloped them. The only sound was the flickering of torch flames, which hung in rocky crevices all around the hollowed room.

Malik hurried over, carrying mismatched bottles in one arm and two silver goblets in the next. He delicately placed the large chalices on the granite table, one for the King, and one for the uncertain boy beside him.

After pouring Bakura's rum, the golden boy floated lithely to Ryou's side.

"The boss has informed me that you have a slightly different taste then he does." Malik pulled forth the large French bottle that Ryou recognized from before, only this time it was quite full. The entranced Prince watched merrily as the delicious wine cascaded into the silver cup before him. Its rich aroma, sweet and slightly dry, filled his starving form.

Malik disappeared and reappeared with hardly a sound, balancing a large tray filled with slices and chunks of cooked meats, cheeses and breads. The gentle Egyptian placed the platter before the King and the hesitant boy at his side. Bakura helped himself to the first serving, heaping a large portion of food onto the crystal plate that sat before him. When he finished, he glanced to Ryou, silently commanding him to follow.

The petite Prince obeyed. His heart was beating so fiercely that he feared it might be overheard. Swallowing his fear, he grabbed the closest piece that he could reach, not knowing what type of meat it actually was. He then timidly grabbed a small biscuit, worrying frantically that he had taken too much. When he was finished, three men, only one of which Ryou recognized, rose from their seats to claim their share. Joey led them. They were all dressed similarly, decorated with the pelts of animals whose lives they had taken to support their fellow brothers.

"As always, we are thankful to Joey and the hunter's clan for their valiant efforts. Think of them as you eat this delicious feast." Bakura raised his goblet, quickly glancing at Ryou to do the same. As he obeyed, the Prince heard the other men chime in with quick words of thanks. With a metallic clang of silver, the toast was over, and the voices in the room grew suddenly louder.

When the hunters sat down, their dinner in hand, the rest of the clan pushed forward. Within seconds an unorganized blob of sweaty men had circled the golden platter. Ryou heard grunts and foul language as the bickering thieves pushed and shoved their way to the pile of meat. When they pulled back, the once heaping platter had diminished to an empty plate slick with grease. The Prince's eyes widened at the discernible lack of etiquette. If he was truly going to rule over these uneducated misfits, he would have to take the time to teach them some manners.

-----

It smelt delicious.

Sweet meat, fire roasted and slightly charcoal tinged, plumped the bone before him. There was no tableware, and the polite Prince glanced around nervously before deciding to eat with his hands. Copying the surrounding thieves and ignoring years of practiced etiquette, Ryou raised his dinner to his lips.

It was better than he possibly could have hoped. The greasy meat was tender and juicy, the skin crackled pleasantly in his mouth. It was hot. The sizzling bone scalded his fingers and burned the tip of his tongue, but he didn't care. This meal was simply too good to worry about trivial things such as discomfort.

From the corner of his eye, Bakura glanced to the boy's cup and motioned Malik to his side.

To Ryou's delight and also dismay, the silent Egyptian wordlessly filled the silver mug, topping it off quite full.

"I don't know what they taught you back at that Palace of yours, but here we do things a bit differently." As he said this, Bakura winked reassuringly. Once again Ryou blushed, but not because of the wine.

-----

An exhausted yet contented Prince walked slowly down the dimly lit path to his new chamber room. He leaned absently against the golden thief who supported him in his daze.

They soon reached the heavy plank that signified warmth and comfort. Bakura led Ryou inside and latched the makeshift door behind them.

"It seems _somebody_ is ready for bed…" The thief glanced at the tired boy who drowsed at his side.

Ryou's eyes fluttered open and the young Prince yawned in response. He was escorted to the bed, where he gratefully crawled in amidst the comfort of many pillows. Bakura laid down gently beside him.

Captivated by the wine's pleasant allure, Ryou spoke sleepily to the curious King.

"Dinner was _amazing._ I have never been able to eat like that before, I rather liked it."

Bakura raised an arched, white brow.

"Well then, indulge me. How is it that Royals eat?"

Closing his eyes, Ryou relaxed into the warm man at his side.

"In the Palace there are certain etiquette's that we are obliged to follow while in the presence of others. To eat without the use of extensive tableware, or furthermore, with your hands, is greatly discouraged and generally looked down upon by all nobles. It would be impossible to dine without using the appropriate mannerisms in court, as everyone is constantly observing your every move. The slightest mistake could be taken completely out of context and exploited the next day, it's absolutely maddening!"

Bakura smiled in the darkened room.

"So then, you like it here?"

"Y-yes… I believe so." Though he hesitated, Ryou realized that he did prefer this damp and darkened cave to the extravagant Palace and royal pressures of home.

The golden thief maneuvered gently over the young Prince. Straddling him, he deftly pinned two pale wrists to the feather bed.

"Do you like _me?_"

The boy beneath him swallowed nervously, his cheeks pinking a delicate, dusty rose. Ryou looked from his trapped wrists, the left then the right, realizing too late that there was no escape. Widened garnet eyes fell anxiously on a gleaming, sapphire stare.

"I—I…"

The thief leaned in slowly, savoring the stifled reactions of the spellbound boy. His lips brushed against the Prince's own, coaxing the boy's mouth apart gently.

Ryou closed his eyes, allowing the warm, intruding tongue inside of him.

He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe and he couldn't get away.

Their tongues danced to the beat of a wordless song, twisting together in a saliva exchange, tasting each other in the most intimate of ways. The crimson King placed a golden knee between the Prince's pale thighs, gently wedging them apart. He sank between the boy's trembling legs, his hips pressing softly against the Prince's most private area.

Gasping, Ryou broke away. Turning his face to the side, he inhaled deep breathes of sweet flavored air.

Bakura lowered his lips to the boy's neck. Kissing it gently, he licked and sucked toward the Prince's ear. Though he tried not to, a small moan escaped the boy's mouth, encouraging the crimson King to continue. Ryou struggled to speak between breaths of desire and pains of doubt.

"W-wait, please! I've, I've never—"

A sudden footfall by the unlatched door, then an intake of distrust stilled the air.

"**Bakura-kun**, _how could you.._."

Her beautiful voice whispered from the shadows, sounding pleasantly of tinkling bells. Her hair glistened in the glow of candlelight, illuminated like a sparkling, silver moon. Pale skin, milky and translucent, accented ruby lips, which turned down in a disapproving pout. Silent eyes narrowed at the King of Thieves; holding him captive with her ice blue stare.

"K-Kisa!?" Bakura stiffened in disbelief. Ryou glanced from the Crimson King to the gorgeous girl standing purposely at the door. "What… What are you doing here?!"

"I have come to take back my Prince, the one which **you** have stolen!" The slender girl, no more than fifteen years of age, stepped confidently forward, reaching for Ryou's arm. She was very petite, and her serious attempt to steal the Prince was almost laughable.

"What do you mean, _**your**_ Prince?" Bakura blinked, profoundly confused, staring with awed wonder at the girl he used to love.

The fragile girl stared silently at the confounded boy, still trapped by the hovering King.

"Prince Ryou Aiden Lorraine, last heir to the English throne, it has been arranged by your father that I, Princess Kisara of Thebes, shall become your bride." The pale Princess once again extended an elegant hand. "Come with me and I shall escort you back to the palace, where you will be **rid** of the likes of _him_."

-----

*Ouji-Sama – "Prince" in Japanese

Holy crap!? Who was expecting that twist? Not me! I actually just thought of it, but I have a great plan so please keep reading! Next chapter should be up by the end of March. Thank you so much for everyone who has commented or reviewed the story! I honestly didn't think it would do so well, and with your support, I hope it gets even bigger and better!

I love your reviews so please write for me, and I'll write for you? Deal?

See you next time in **Chapter 4: Kisara Returns** (yes, Ryou and Bakura are in it, silly!)

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Preview from **Chapter 4: Kisara Returns:**

Once upon time, there was a kind and generous Princess. The Princess was so beautiful that all of her people loved her, and in return, she loved the people of her kingdom more than life itself.

One night, the Princess was taken captive by a band of Thieves, and held ransom for a most valuable and rare treasure. To her dismay, the kind Princess fell in love with one of the Thieves, and in time, the Thief returned her favor. Every day and every night, the Thief would whisper to her his feelings, and the Princess would respond the same. Even though the Princess felt deeply for the Thief, she was torn between her love for him and the love of her Kingdom. In the end, the Princess left the Thief for her people, telling him that she would never return.

If she had made the right decision, then what was this feeling that had shattered her once kind and generous heart?


End file.
